


Kin-dly

by aquila_black



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-07
Updated: 2006-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:37:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquila_black/pseuds/aquila_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mojo-Jojo is having a minor (albeit from his perspective, not minor at all!) identity crisis, due to a very public lapse in persona. The Powerpuff Girls find a way to make things right after the credits roll. Character development, seemingly chance encounters, and screwball Townsville-after-dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kin-dly

**Author's Note:**

> Original AN: These events take place directly after the episode Forced Kin. This story is dedicated to all those PowerPuff Girls episodes where the day is saved by …someone else.
> 
> Recovering from the bottom of my drafts folder note: This story went unposted for a long time because there was supposed to be more of it, but chapter two never coalesced in a way that I was happy with. It needed more structure and organization than I knew how to give it, so it ends with some foreshadowing and there isn't more. I had too much I wanted to write and no clue how to make it happen.

Mojo trudged sullenly up the steps to his observatory, hunched over and in a truly foul mood. Usually, at times like this, his mind would be awhirl with activity, a thousand different complicated plans coalescing, bearing his scrutiny, and then dissipating as they were just as speedily discarded. For once, there was merely one thought, one thought in that mad, brilliant mind: how could he, Mojo Jojo, have done something so horrendously stupid as what he had just done mere moments ago? How was this possible? HOW? And for once, there were no ready answers. 

Almost as if on cue, a fine pink mist began materializing above his bowed simian head. He did not notice it until he reached for the door to his lab. ZAP! The handle gave him a terrific shock, static leaping from the metal directly onto his outstretched glove. Mojo yelped and jumped backwards, catching himself just before he fell down the stairs. 

He frowned. This was electricity, of the sort produced by scuffing one’s socks against carpet, but his observatory steps had no carpet, he was absolutely sure he had come into contact with no carpet … unless that accursed android had also been carpeted? 

No, a simpler explanation was already coming into view, in the form of two slitted yellow eyes staring out from an angular, burgundy face. “Well, not necessarily _simpler_ ,” simpered the demon demurely, “I resent that, Mojo.” 

The evil super-genius froze, wisely keeping his mouth shut. 

How strange, Him mused, how very peculiar. “Well,” he prompted slickly, “Townsville has a new savior, I hear.” 

Mojo flinched visibly and colored, cheeks a sickly combination of green and red. He said nothing. 

Him raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Come to pick up your belongings before going to live with the girls?” he taunted, “Or has the mayor given you a hotline too?” 

The odd blush deepened and began reaching across his little monkey nose. What fun, eh? But the joke was wearing thin. After all, Mojo was the one who always spouted interminable monologues, and Him hadn’t paid the mad chimp a visit only to hear _himself_ talk. 

The demon smiled mischievously. “Come, come, I know you’re dying to tell me. Unless, of course, talking to moi is suddenly beneath vu. Hmm?” The threat was subtle, but perfectly audible. Him killed in French, and although he had no intention of killing Mojo, this deaf-mute act was becoming … wearisome. No matter how mortified the villain might be, there was no excuse for ignoring Him.  
This realization partially snapped Mojo out of his self-induced stupor. “Of-of course not, sir.” He muttered, turning redder than ever at his own inarticulacy and ineptitude. He was behaving like a blithering idiot! 

But Him smirked mildly, nevertheless. “Better. Go on.” 

Mojo gritted his teeth. “Dose accuhsed Powa Puff Gulls tricked me into savin-da-wohld!” This whole sentence was uttered at a low growl, almost tempting Him to pretend he had misheard. But the diminutive simian looked so miserable, so completely out-of-sorts that he decided to skip it. After all, he thought with a smirk, both of their energies were better spent on ‘dose accuhsed Powa Puff Gulls’, no? It seemed he should go pay them a visit. 

“Scandalous,” Him breathed softly, “what is the world coming to?” Of course, he had been perfectly aware of the situation, and was privately glad that it hadn’t required his intervention. It wouldn’t do, for the true evilest of evils to wind up rescuing Townsville (and its most annoying five-year-old occupants). How mortifying, Him reflected. Better that the chimp did it than the devil. 

But Mojo was completely traumatized. It would take weeks for him to recover, at least. Besides, this was one opportunity that was simply too good to miss. The PowerPuffs had gone completely beyond the pale this time. 

Him grinned evilly. “Well, that’s all I needed to know. Farewell.” The pink mist evaporated as suddenly as it had appeared, without waiting for an answer. 

Mojo stared dully at the spot where it had stood, then turned and entered what remained of his laboratory home, after that miserable android … he growled again. The fact was, those aliens had brought more of his plans to fruition than he had. That android came so close to destroying the PowerPuff Girls, closer than any of the robo-jojos he had built in years. The sheer genius of its evil had brought tears to his eyes, yet he had helped, no, been the guiding force behind its destruction; because there could be but one ultimate evil. 

He sighed deeply, disgustedly. Once again, the PowerPuff Girls had bested him. They had gotten him to unwittingly fight their enemy, and then cheered (or was it jeered) him for saving the day. Such a simple, infantile trick, and he hadn’t seen it coming. And the town –whistling and yelling and waving poorly painted flags with his face on them, as if he was some circus monkey turning tricks and jumping hoops for their benefit. If he outlived every worthless human in that crowd, he might live down this debacle. The hard part would be showing his face between now and then. 

Mojo sighed again, and considered getting a very, very stiff drink. But no. Scientists, even mad, humiliated scientists did not, under any circumstances kill their cerebral tissue. He set the thought aside and decided the best thing would be to begin reconstructing his plans again immediately, before any of the blueprints faded from his mind. 

It was a monumental task, but Mojo was used to monumental tasks. He got started.

* * * * * * * *

“Whoo, what a day!” exclaimed Blossom wearily, unclipping her disheveled hair, “I need a shower.”

“Me too,” added Bubbles, with a bit less bounce than usual. They both glanced at Buttercup, who was grimier than the other two put together.

“What?” she snapped defensively, “You need showers, then go jump in the freakin’ shower. Together, for all I care.”

“ _Buttercup!_ ” the two girls shouted indignantly, in unison, but they were silenced by an eerily familiar chuckle.

“Yes, I quite agree. _Buttercup!_ ” Him mimicked softly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Buttercup pulled an expression of pure revulsion, which obviously had nothing to do with her sisters, one way or the other. “Whaddaya want, Him?” she demanded aggressively.

“Such manners,” he commented primly, “I merely came to see whether you were through tormenting Mojo.”

Bubbles longingly picked up a towel. “Him, it’s getting late. We can play mind games with you tomorrow, okay?”

“Ah, ah, ah, Bubbles. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today,” he purred, “didn’t the professor tell you about the evils of procrastination?”

The three girls groaned simultaneously. It was bad enough when Him was obviously out to destroy them, but trying to figure out what he was up to was always much worse. 

As usual, Blossom stepped forward. “Alright, Him, but make it fast. About Mojo…”

Him folded his claws and settled down placidly in a chair. “What’s this about calling him a hero, hmm?” he retorted silkily, turning the question around. “Is that any way to treat someone that saved your lives?”

The three Puffs looked at one another. “Yes! It’s not our fault that he’s such a sourball. We pulled all the stops!”

Him shuddered. “I don’t doubt it. That little spectacle you three organized made him perfectly miserable.” 

“Yeah, sure, like we meant to do that.” Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Geez, for the last time, Him, will you get to the point?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your astonishing denseness is the main reason I address your sister?” Him spat disdainfully.

“No.” Buttercup crossed her arms in blatant defiance. “Hey Bloss, is he making any sense to you?”

“I think so.” Blossom turned towards the demon. “Look, Mojo got all the warmth, love, and praise this town has to offer. If he takes all that and throws it in the garbage, it’s his problem, because we tried to do something nice for him.”

Him glanced sarcastically at her from beneath half-closed eyelids and dark, fanlike lashes. “Tell me, since when do the PowerPuff Girls try something and give up when it doesn’t work?”

Blossom scowled, hair bow quivering with anger. “Since when do you care?”

A cruel, evasive smile met her words. “Oh … since never. I was just thinking about your souls.” Carelessly, Him started to sharpen his claws against one of the bedposts. “Hypocrisy always was the downfall of heroes.”

“Don’t you call _us_ hippo …” Buttercup flew at Him, but he dissolved into a thick, laughing vapor. When she reached the bed, all that remained were three thin, jagged lines where his claws had peeled off the varnish. “Darn it,” she swore irritably, and started to pick at the score marks.

“Stop that,” Blossom ordered bossily, but she looked worried.

“Him’s right.” Buttercup looked quizzically at Blossom, who looked equally bewildered. Slowly, both of them turned towards the corner, where Bubbles was cuddling her stuffed octopus tightly. “Him’s right,” she repeated softly, squeezing the toy, “we were mean to Mojo.”

“Aw, c’mon,” protested Buttercup indignantly, “we gave him the best hero’s welcome ever! The town doesn’t even go _that_ wild when _we_ save the day.”

“But Mojo doesn’t wanna be a hero.” Bubbles pointed out, “An’ we made him feel bad for helping us.”

Buttercup threw up her stubs in disgust. “Okay, fine. Next time, we sock it to him so he doesn’t feel too heroic. Oh yeah, I forgot, there isn’t gonna _be_ a next time because _he’s the bad guy_. So just forget it. Go take a bath, Bubs.”

“Don’t talk to your sister like that,” objected Blossom.

Buttercup turned on her. “Oh, skip it. You’re not my mother, Bloss!”

Blossom frowned disapprovingly. “Buttercup, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’!” Buttercup insisted vehemently, “Talk to Bubbles. _I’m_ not the one worrying about whether we were accidentally rude to Mojo.”

To everyone’s great surprise, Bubbles bonked her on the head with her yellow plush toy. Buttercup threw it across the room. “ _See?_ ” 

Blossom tried not to giggle.“Sorry, sis, but I think you had that coming.” 

Bubbles grinned at this.

Buttercup snorted. “Yeah? Well, I know what you’ve got coming. Quit worrying about being fair to Mojerk and start being fair to me for a change.”

Blossom ignored this. “Him’s up to something, and he’s obviously feeling pretty confident about it. But I don’t …”

“Hah, you don’t get it, do ya?” smirked Buttercup triumphantly, as if Blossom’s confusion were a personal accomplishment. “I knew it! You were just showing off for Him.”

Blossom and Bubbles exchanged a look. _Showing off for_ … now that was ridiculous. But it reminded Blossom of something. “You know what he’s getting at, don’t you?” she asked Buttercup pointedly. Bubbles gasped.

“Huh? How would I know?” countered Buttercup, “that freak’s crazy, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.” Blossom advanced on her sister. “And you’d know because you’re equivocal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buttercup challenged tetchily, half suspecting Blossom was insulting her.

Thoughtfully, Blossom pulled up a chair for herself and Bubbles, and sat down. “It means you’re more flexible than we are. When Mojo was trying to teach us to be bad, Bubbles couldn’t, I wouldn’t, and you just did.”

The green Puff started to protest, but Bubbles floated deliberately across the room and retrieved her poor stuffed octopus. Buttercup shrugged. “So maybe I do know what he’s talking about. Isn’t it like, obvious?”

Blossom glowered at her. “Let’s pretend it’s not.”

“Whatever you say, Bloss.” Buttercup grinned guiltily, enjoying her sister’s annoyance. “Look, if Mojo’d told us how bad we were for helping him, we woulda gotten mad, right? So ‘wow, you’re a hero’ was the last thing we should’ve said, _‘less we wanted to make him look silly._ Him’s saying we tricked Mojo into doing good, an’ then made fun ‘a him. He called us hippo, hypo … uh, two-faced. Now we have to put up or shut up.”

Blossom stared at her. She hadn’t actually expected Buttercup to understand how Him’s mind worked, but he had a point. Their behavior had been less-than-heroic, and whatever their intentions, the road to heck was paved with good intentions. Blossom sighed. She had really been looking forward to a hot bath and an early bedtime. “So how do we … ‘put up’, anyway?”

Bubbles answered. “We hafta go see Mojo.”

Buttercup nodded grudgingly. “And tell him what a bad monkey-man he is.”

“Well, I guess he’s earned it, after saving the …” a smile started to tug at Blossom’s face. “I mean, after proving he’s the evilest.”

Bubbles giggled. 

“Quit laughing!” Buttercup whipped out the brain cap and cape he gave her earlier and put them on. “That’s it. You two need practice.”

The weight of the brain cap made it slide over her bangs and eyelids, giving her eyes a slanted, evil look. The laughter stopped. 

“Um, Buttercup?” Bubbles ventured.

“Silence! I am Mojo Jojo, and don’t you forget it, because if you forget I will have to remind you, and I have better things to do than …”

“Okay, okay, we get the picture,” grumbled Blossom. “How’s this? We’re sorry we called you a hero.”

Buttercup made a face. “ _Don’t_ remind me.”

Bubbles thought for a moment, then said tentatively, “and you really are pretty evil?”

Buttercup slapped a hand to her forehead, pulled off the costume, and threw it on Bubbles. “Watch. Mojo Jojo, you are the meanest, rottenest, vilest creature ever to set foot in Townsville!” 

“Ohh … right.” Blossom grinned, shoved Buttercup out of the way, and kneeled. “I bow to your superior evilness.” 

Bubbles eyes sparkled with laughter, “Hee hee, you look funny, Blossom, oops, I mean MUA-HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!” The other two looked at each other and burst into fits of giggles.

“Heh heh, I thin-heh, I think that should work,” snickered Buttercup, eyes filling with tears as she tried to keep a lid on it.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Girls? Supper’s rea…”

“We’ll be back soon, Professor.” 

“Yeah, there’s something we have to do.”

“See ya later, dad.”

The three Puffs passed him as streaks of color, with Blossom first and Buttercup at the rear. 

Professor Utonium blinked. Whatever it was, this ‘something’ was obviously critical. Given any choice, his girls never skipped meals.

* * * * * * * *

The three superheroes split up and zoomed around town, talking to people and explaining the situation. Some of the adults were a bit reluctant, but the other kids got this sort of ‘aha’ look in their eyes, and immediately started modifying the posters, flags, and other memorabilia. 

As they worked their way across Townsville, the Puffs inevitably came across some of the dodgier inhabitants. Blossom bumped into Fuzzy Lumkins, who thought the whole thing was rather funny and actually agreed to help. Blossom gaped at him. “Really?”

He shrugged and hitched up his overalls. “Ah’ve known that ol’ rapscallion fer years, an he’s the worse thing tha’s ever happened t’this here town.”

“Would you tell him that?” 

“Ah surely will.” 

Blossom grinned. “Perfect.”

In another part of the city … “S-s-so you’ll come with us?” Bubbles stammered, trying her hardest not to panic.

Sedusa fluffed her snakes and smiled lasciviously. “Well … seems we owe him a little favor, don’t you think? Especially after that dreadful reception.”

Bubbles blushed hard, and the villainess smiled indulgently. “Don’t you fret sugar; we know just what to do.” She patted Bubbles’ blond head with her long, painted talons.

“’Kay,” mumbled the blue Puff, sweating a little and feeling very much out of her depth. _I really hope Mojo appreciates this!_

And, on the very steps of the court building … who should Buttercup meet but the Gangreen Gang! On skateboards, too. 

Ace swerved to avoid knocking her over. “He-ey, what’s up, Buttercup? You’re out late.” He turned a full, spectacular 360˚ aerial and skidded to a halt a few feet away, leaving wheel marks all over the otherwise-immaculate courthouse.

“Yesss.” Snake agreed, speeding down the rails and throwing sparks on either side. “Iss’been a while.”

Buttercup gave a low, guttural growl as Arturo jumped a makeshift ramp and cork-screwed over her in midair. “ _Eh, quiúbole cuate,_ ” he teased in rapid Spanish, “ _Que onda?”_

“Tthhbbpp-ungh!” Buttercup kicked Grubber off his skateboard before he could finish. The others gathered round.

“Alright guys, listen up.” She said, “I’m sure you heard that Mojo saved us all from aliens today.”

“Heard?” scoffed Arturo, “ _Mira, linda_ , we were there. _Ay!_ ” Snake kicked him.

“Whatever,” retorted Buttercup, trying hard to keep her temper, “point is, we messed up. ‘Steada letting him know he’s the baddest thing around, we cheered him, and now we’ve got to set things right.”

Ace peered at her over his shades. “Fair enough. But I thought we were the baddest thing around.”

Buttercup’s green eyes took on a dangerous purple tinge. “ _ACE!_ ”

“Heh, heh.” He threw up his hands conciliatorily. “Just kidding. We’re with ya, kid.”

Oh _great_ , thought Buttercup sourly.

The Townsvillians gathered around the base of the observatory, while Fuzzy, Sedusa, and the Gangreen Gang accompanied the girls up the steps. 

Blossom and Bubbles’ gaped when they saw who Buttercup had brought, but she glared at them so venomously that they didn’t comment. Instead, Blossom took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Rap! Rap! Rap!

Silence.

Rap! Rap! Rap!

Nothing.

Briefly, Buttercup considered blasting in the door, but a mental image of Mojo coming to open it and getting thrown across the room and squashed flat against the far wall of his observatory stopped her. That was _not_ the way to make someone feel appreciated. She sniggered and folded her arms. Let Bloss worry about getting them in. What were leaders for, anyway?

Smirking, Ace glanced at the girls and motioned graciously to Arturo, who sidled over and deftly picked the lock. The door creaked open. “Er …” The silence weighed heavily on Blossom’s impeccable manners, but she knew thanking him would be entirely inappropriate. Awkwardly, she nodded at them both and went in. Her sisters were right behind her. 

They found Mojo hard at work on a pile of complicated-looking plans and diagrams. As usual, he was not happy to be disturbed. At the sight of the PowerPuff Girls, his whole frame tensed, though this was only visible because his heightened grip broke the tip of his pencil. 

Being rather short, this meant he would have to get up, grab some item that could be used as a stepladder, and use it to reach the pencil sharpener at the other end of the lab, all in full view of the PowerPuff Girls, who could not fail to notice A) that he was extremely vertically challenged, and B) that he was purposely ignoring them, neither of which remotely suited his evil super-genius self. _Currrrssses_ , he groused mentally, and put down the writing implement as if he had not noticed its worthless broken tip. He opened his mouth to speak.

Bubbles did the same. “Um, Mojo, would you like me to fix your pencil?”

“NO! You foolish girl, what are you doing in my observatory? Or what is left of my observatory, after that mismatched assortment of alien artifacts demolished the better part of it,” he amended irritably.

“That’s it!” Bubbles broke into a big smile. “We’ll help you re-build it!”

" _Bubbles!_ " muttered Blossom, trying to keep her focused.

The scathing look Mojo sent in their direction betrayed a distinct lack of amusement. “You most certainly will not. You have destroyed my reputation as a villain, hence calling into question whether I am truly evil or merely pretending to be evil while actually being something else, and that is inexcusable, for I will not allow it.” He sneered blisteringly. “I think you three _heroes_ have done enough good for one day. Now get out, before I prove that Mojo Jojo is no hero … and make sure that no one ever mistakes me for one again.” He spat this last with a bitterness they had never heard before.

Bubbles started edging nervously towards the door, but Blossom caught her by the arm and held her back. Her red bow twitched a little as she came forward, but otherwise she seemed perfectly calm. “That’s what we came to talk to you about.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Assisted suicide?”

“No! Making sure everyone knows how bad you are. Look, we’re sorry about earlier. I wasn’t thinking.”

Mojo’s eyebrows were still arching suspiciously, but she kept talking. “We’ve explained to everyone how you’re the darkest, meanest, evilest person in Townsville, and you defeated the aliens because they weren’t half as bad as you.”

Buttercup grinned ruefully. “An’ you also saved our goody-goody behinds, so we came to show some respect for the evilest evil. You’re a holy terror, Mojerk, and we’re gonna go to bed tonight knowing that if it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead. What’s it like, knowing nobody trashes this town like you do?”

Blossom whipped her head around, appalled, “ _Buttercup!_ ”

But the green Puff’s words had the desired effect. Mojo stared hard at her for a moment, but then broke into a grudging, growing smile. “My impulsive green enemy, I do believe you would have made a convincing villain yourself, if such were your inclination. It is indeed a pity that you lack the interest.” 

His grin grew broader and more mischievous by the instant. “Nevertheless, the talent is there. I can see why that young ruffian yonder likes you.” 

The three girls jumped, and turned around in time to see the top of Ace’s head duck guiltily back behind the door, cursing Mojo for blowing his cover and knocking into other people as he went. “Get back, all of ya!” He snarled angrily. 

From the sound of it, everyone that fit was packed against the door, dying to find out what on earth they were talking about.

“Worst of the worst or not, I’ll get you for that, Mojo,” Buttercup growled, though her tone did nothing to disprove his observations.

Mojo, suddenly (and rather inexplicably) in one of his rare good moods, adjusted his gloves and exchanged his battered brain cap for a new one. “You didn’t mention bringing an entourage.”

“How were we supposed to know they’d be listening in?” grumbled Buttercup petulantly.

He smiled, in definite high spirits. “If you were a villain, you’d know these things.”

She glared sardonically. “No shi –owww! Hey!” Blossom kicked her, sending Buttercup skidding painfully across the room. Mojo had the good sense not to chuckle, though he wanted to, and settled for giving her exasperated sister an amused glance. Instead of picking herself up, Buttercup propped her head up on one stub and drummed the end of the other sullenly against the ground, in a combination of wounded dignity and black humor. 

Someone banged impatiently against the door, and a low chant could be heard from the crowd outside –Mo-jo! Mo-jo! The three girls looked at each other, amazed. The citizens were really getting into this. Who’d have thought, huh? 

“Sounds like your fans are gettin’ restless,” Buttercup said softly. With true villainous composure, Mojo swept his cape behind him, threw out his chest proudly, and stalked silently to the door. 

A cheer burst forth as he came into view, followed by a sort of collective shiver that reduced the tumult to a hush. A lone hand bearing a sign appeared, lit by the narrow beam of a single flashlight. Slowly, others joined it. 

His breath caught as he surveyed the hand-painted, recently modified posters. One said “Our hero” and someone had quickly written in “the worst on earth!” in big, red, block capitals beneath. A really large sign held between four people depicted a giant Mojo stepping on the fleeing alien ship. Yet another showed him and the girls chasing a terrified Mammoth back into the glaciers. A particularly cheeky notice read “Mojo Jojo, the one and only” and had been quickly amended to include the editorial “thank goodness.” And there were many others.

Ace eyed a rudimentary illustration of Mojo breaking a baguette over the android’s head and sniggered. “Our town, huh?” 

The evil super-genius took one look at it and sputtered with indignant laughter. “Eyesss,” he acknowledged reluctantly, noting that the picture’s over-the-top exuberance and utter simplicity pretty much summed the place up. 

The people here were idiots. Or, as the PowerPuffs would have it, loveable idiots. For the first time, he understood how the girls could see them that way. But they were still idiots, no matter how you looked at it. His peers and near-peers stood around him, gazing down at the masses with the same vague, scornful look that he generally wore. In contrast, they appeared darker, more colorful, and more furtive, and all were clearly unused to being at the center of so much positive attention. For once, he was the toast of the town. 

It was very strange. 

Ace turned his way and removed his shades tensely. “Well, tonight it’s yours. Look at ‘em. It’s because ‘a you we’ve still _got_ a town to terrorize. Way to go, man. And … thank you.” He flashed one of his rare, sincere smiles and put his lenses back on. “This is some party, Mojo, but we’ve gotta split. There’s a little grocery store that’s just begging for trouble.” He cracked his knuckles keenly.

Mojo pulled him closer. “I would not do that if I were you.” 

Ace glanced at his fingers. “What, this?” he popped another joint.

“No, attempt to rob valuables from the mini-mart tonight.”

The young rogue’s eyebrows appeared to be on elevators. One curved straight up while the other crushed suspiciously down. “Oh? And why the heck not?”

The evil super genius smiled like a rack of knives. “Because I require groceries.”

Ace stood there for a moment, stunned, but quickly regained his composure. “Gotcha.” An evil grin spread across his green features. “Take care ‘a yourself, monkey-man.” And with that, he was gone, and Gangreen with him.

Fuzzy started to approach, but Sedusa made a disapproving fish-pout at him and sidled over, hips swinging, giving about half the crowd a good look at her shapely derriere. The males in the audience gasped and whistled, but an over-the-shoulder frown quickly chilled the commotion. Lithely, she crouched down right next to Mojo and whispered something in his ear. Though by now the citizens were completely silent, no one could hear a word she said –except Mojo, that is, and his eyes grew very wide indeed. Just in case, Blossom covered her sisters’ ears. Suddenly, he started blushing hard, and leaned on the side of the observatory for support. Twirling a strand of her black, snake-like hair alluringly, Sedusa got up, cat-stretched, and disappeared into the shadows. 

“Mojo?” Bubbles asked uncertainly, “Are you okay?”

“What?” he snapped gruffly.

Fuzzy lumbered over, banjo in hand and eyes twinkling. He thumped Mojo on the back encouragingly. “Why, you lucky varmint. She likes you!”

Mojo jumped, half-startled out of a private reverie for the second time. “What?” 

Fuzzy chuckled and pulled Bubbles over. “This purty lady jus’ asked you how y’were, yah moony-eyed monkey.” Blossom and Buttercup stifled hysterical laughter. The latter was literally doubled over, tears streaming from mirth.

Bubbles squirmed, uncomfortable with Fuzzy’s grip. Mojo blinked at her. “Yeh – yes, of course, I am fine. You need not inquire!” he said brusquely.

Buttercup wiped her eyes and smirked. “Yeah, that’s what we thought.”

Blossom looked absently at her watch, then did a double-take and goggled at it. “Oh my gosh! We’ve got to get home – _now_. Thanks Mojo, it’s been a pleasure, hope you enjoy your party, buh-bye.” She grabbed a sibling in each stub and took off. 

The other two grinned. “Bye, Mojoooooo!” 

Buttercup pulled at her sister resentfully. “Lemme go. You don’t have to drag us.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is? TEN! Ten _p.m._ The professor is gonna be so worried …”

Bubbles frowned. “Yeah, especially because you just left him at the park.”

“What?”

Buttercup finally yanked her arm free and stopped in mid-flight. “You heard her. He’s over there.” She pointed at a little speck in a white lab coat. 

They flew over at once, Blossom, as usual, in the lead. “Professor! We’re sorry. I didn’t mean to let it get so late, but …”

Professor Utonium patted her on the head reassuringly. “It’s alright, Blossom, I heard all about it. You three did a good thing tonight.”

She looked up at him. “We did?”

“Yes.” He nodded wisely. “Mojo has never been accepted for what he became after the transformation. Now I want you girls to fly straight home and tuck each other in. There’s something I have to do.”

Bubbles put on her most irresistible baby face. “What’s that Perfessor?”

The Professor smiled. “Thank him for saving you three.”

The girls all started to protest at once, but he quickly reassured them. “Don’t worry; I won’t put it like that. But …” he rolled his eyes upward innocently, “some of his methods _were_ pure genius, and if I were to tell him that … I don’t think he’d be too offended. Do you?”

Bubbles stared. “Nuh-uh.”

Buttercup shook her head admiringly. “You sure know how to make a person feel special.” An odd twinge of pain accompanied her words, but she shook it off.

Blossom nodded in speechless agreement, wowed by the subtlety of his praise. _I want a compliment like that someday_ , she thought silently, and wished she could stay up to see how Mojo took it. But it was already horribly late. She re-checked her watch again and sighed. “C’mon girls, it’s way past our bedtime.”

With obvious affection, Professor Utonium adjusted her hair bow, which was drooping after all the excitement. “That’s my Blossom.”

Buttercup started to say something, but then stopped. For once, Blossom looked as bummed out as she felt, and it had been a very, very long day already, so she kept her mouth shut. When her sister wasn’t acting all bossy, Buttercup sometimes got the feeling that being ‘the responsible one’ was punishment enough. 

Bubbles sensed the tension and reached out her arms innocently. “G’night, Perfessor. Will you tuck us in when you get home?”

The Professor swept them all up in a big hug. “Of course I will, sweetie.”

The Puffs snuggled into the front of his lab coat for a moment before darting off towards the house, three streaks of color slicing through the darkness. Most of the townspeople were still gazing raptly at the observatory, where Mojo appeared to be making some sort of speech, but a few turned and waved. They waved back, but the park was receding, and soon the little patch of green was far behind them.

“Y’know what? That was fun!” enthused Bubbles sleepily.

“Yeah, what a blast.” Buttercup grinned. “Don’t get used to it, though. I’ll betcha dollars to Octis he’ll be at it again tomorrow.”

Blossom shrugged. “But we learned something, and who’d have thought cheering Mojo up could be as much fun as beating him up?”

Bubbles nodded somberly, as if this were a very Deep Thought. Buttercup made an ‘I’ll-pretend-I-didn’t-hear-that’ face, but said nothing.

They touched down and flew in through the open window. On reaching their room, Bubbles picked up her towel and turned, already halfway to the shower. “Maybe Him was trying to show us that even bad guys …”

“Aw, give it up, you two,” poked Buttercup, “Why do you have to find a moral in everything, huh?”

Blossom, though, was hardly listening. “Ohmigosh, I completely forgot about Him!”

“Ohmigosh! That’s terrible,” Buttercup quipped sarcastically. “I mean, _so what?_ He’s gone.”

But her sisters did a super-fast search of the entire room before they were sure. Bubbles even checked in the shower. 

The green Puff leaned against the wall, unimpressed. “I’m tellin’ ya, even the scratches’ve disappeared.” She pointed to the unmarked varnish on the bed-knobs.

Blossom ran a stub over them. “But what does it mean?”

Buttercup and Bubbles glanced at each other. “Beats me,” admitted the former.

“I don’t like this,” said Blossom, staring directly at Buttercup.

“Well, I’ll mention it to His Fluffiness,” she murmured sourly. “Oh, c’mon Bloss, what’re you looking at me for, anyway?”

“Because you aren’t taking this seriously! Him’s a very dangerous enemy; he never does anything without a reason.”

“Yeah? Well maybe he’s just _reasonably_ sick of getting creamed by us three and decided to try something different for a change. Besides, he actually managed to catch us being naughty.”

Bubbles broke into a big, beamy smile. “Maybe we already beat Him by making it up to Mojo, an’ that’s why the scratches are gone.”

Blossom shook her head doubtfully. “It’s just not his style. But we better figure this out in the morning. I’m completely wiped out.”

* * * * * * * *

Deep in a certain perilous lair, though, there was someone that wasn’t. Someone with sharp, canny eyes and gleaming … well, you know who I’m talking about.

“Mmm, yes indeed,” murmured Him knowingly. “Mr. Quackers, this time I think we’ve finally got them.” He squeezed the rubber ducky delicately between his lethal claws. 

Mr. Quackers squeaked thoughtfully. 

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. Don’t you see?” But apparently the little bath toy didn’t, because Him proceeded to explain. “Those ridiculous ideals of theirs are so _limiting_. They’re contradicting themselves all the time. Let’s say such-and-such is ‘good’. Alright, but the key is this: good for whom? And who decides? It all makes sense –from a certain point of view. But their precious Professor never told them that morality was a matter of opinion. They’ll find out soon enough. After all, I’m sure Mojo will be more than happy to show them. Don’t you think?” Him smiled fiendishly. “And I’ll be there to catch them when they fall.”

**Author's Note:**

> In its current form, this story also owes a lot to my brother, who was an inexhaustible source of good ideas and vivid mental images. I was completely stuck at the point where Buttercup marched up to Mojo's lair and he wasn't opening the door.
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone's curious about Lil' Arturo's Spanish, it's very slangy (and somewhat dated) ES-mx: 
> 
> Quiúbole cuate = Hello, my friend 
> 
> Que onda = What's up?
> 
> Mira, linda = See here, babe. 
> 
> And 'Ay!' of course, just means _ow!_


End file.
